The Deck
by Shyguy1
Summary: Life as a "Card" isn't easy. So, I quit.  I'm done.  Of course, it isn't quite that easy.
1. Chapter 1

**I actually could not believe that there was Solitaire fanfiction. So, being the person I am, I had to milk it for all it was worth. I found some stories to be enjoyable and others just plain stupid. So, I've created this little master-piece...ok, its not really a master-piece, but its decent at least.**

**This is an AU because really, how much can you write about an actual card game. So, I've decided to apply card names and the idea of the game to kind of a suspenseful and epic storyline.**

**Here you go enjoy.**

It's hard being part of THE GAME. That's life for those of you who don't know. See, I'm part of an organization, called The Deck. We work for a guy known as The Player. Basically a "jack-of-all-trades" business, excuse the pun.

We're transporters, couriers, mercenaries, hit-men, nannies, bus-drivers, bounty-hunters. We do anything. Everything. We don't chose where to go or what to do, The Player does that for us. We work, we live. The alternative is not something I consider too often.

Then there's me. I'm pretty high up in the chain of command, the Jack of Spades. One of the "royals" and in the top division, spades. The harder the mission, the higher card its given to. That's what we are, cards. Thats our "official" title. Just insignificant pieces in some nut jobs insane conspiracy against, what, the world? the government? the U.S. postal service?

No matter. Well, thats at least what I thought until I was told to go to The Player's penthouse suite. See, we get orders in envelopes. We've never seen The Player, don't really have a want too either. This, coincidentally, is where our story begins.

tap tap tap tap

"Would you stop, please? You're driving me insane"

I look down at the pencil gripped tightly between my fingers as I bounced it nervously on the arm of my chair. I shift a little in my heavy rain coat and look toward the speaker "Sorry 2h, its just... what do you think he wants?"

My best friend just sighs in frustration. Whether his frustration is because he doesn't know or because I've asked this question at least thirty times, I'm unsure. He begins to open his mouth for some kind of answer to come crawling out when a light cough catches our attention. The mousy secretary gestures to the open elevator next to her table. "Mr. Ayer will see you now" I almost laugh out loud. Mr Ayer? Peter L. Ayer is the name The Player goes by in public. I just never expected that someone from The Deck would fearfully use his fake name like that, especially not the Queen of Hearts. However, my almost-laughter is squashed by the fact that I'm about to see The Player...and he may be the last thing I see while I'm still living.

The elevator is non-descript. Walls that might have been tan in a past life, silver chrome around worn out buttons. The occasional dark stain here or there that might be something to be worried about. Then I got this unerving feeling. This box was carrying me to my grave.

The doors open to darkness and my eyes are immediately drawn to the smoldering cigarette in being puffed on by an invisible face. The only reason I new that there was a person behind that cigarette was because his outline was framed by the black stormy sky that threatened to unleash yet another torrential downpour on the city. I faintly heard the elevator ding closed behind me and realized that my last hope for life was dinging through the floors toward the bottom. Bye elevator, bye life, nice knowing you

"Come in, sit down." An old dry voice said, seemingly inspiring a singular light to click on over a steel chair in front of me.

"If its all the same to you sir, I think I'll stand" I said. I felt two large hands engulf my shoulders and pick me up. As I squirmed in mid air, I frantically replied "Or sittings good. I love sitting. I do that whenever I'm not standing or laying down or..." I was tossed unceremoniously into the chair "or... stuff" my voice trailed off into a meek whisper.

**This will be enough for now, at least until I get some reviews for this story. As long as I get at least one review, I should continue. I don't expect many people to be browsing through solitaire fanfiction. Hope you enjoyed**


	2. The assignment

**Thanks to tweeker6047, I shall be continuing my story.**

I looked around me. My little circle of light didn't really extend far, and the darkness of the room seemed to be sucking up any light that strayed to far from the tiny ficture in the ceiling.

A crippled hand emerged from the cigarette smoke and made a small gesture. I felt thunder behind me as a hulking frame stomped past. As I flinched away from the massive man, I heard a cruel chuckle come from behind and turned to see a smaller man. An evil smaller man whose twisted grin sent chills dancing down my spine. I knew these two. Jokers. Bodygaurds to the Player. Masters in the art of killing anything that got in their way.

"I brought you here to give you an assignment, Jack. I believe an actual talk will.." the pause was punctuated by the larger joker cracking his neck "... persuade you to finish the task I have for you"

My only response is a vigourous up and down nod since the inside of my mouth has chosen this very inopportune time to imitate the mohavi desert. I can feel my knuckles go white as I try my best to leave finger impressions in the arm of the chair I'm occupying

"Your friend, the... two of diamonds? He's been a little..." a great puff of smoke burst from the cigarette "... nosey, as of late."

I nod slower this time. I'm not sure I want to know where this is going

"I would like you to make sure that your friend lays down for a nice good nap... and never wakes up" and the guilotine drops. A death sentence was what I expected when I came up here, I now only wish it was mine. I feel myself mechanically nod to the man behind the desk. I'm given papers. I'm given instructions. I'm shown the door. I'm watching all this but I'm not really sure I'm participating. I'm watching the elevator descend, with me in it. I'm watching the doors open.

"HEY" a voice echoes through the massive reception hall.

My hazy gaze moves toward a familiar figure and I slowly focus on my lifetime friend. "So... what happened?" He said, almost like he'd already asked the question a few times. I realize, with a start, that while I was lost in thought, he probably already had.

"We talked" My simple answer. All the stress and trauma. The build-up and suspense came down to those two little words. I collected my coat and walked towards the door and I hear a puzzled "That's it?" behind me.

Then I'm in a bar with Two jabbering about something. I'm not really sure how I got there. Force of habit I guess. I think Two was in the middle of something about the economy, or jeans that weren't the proper size, I choose not to pay attention.

"We're quiting" I said. It was almost a whisper, the words and unspoken taboo. Two stopped mid-rant.

"What, like, quiting smoking or drinking, cause you know that I'm not going to be able to follow through with either of those ..."

"The Deck. That's what we're quiting." I interupted him.

He stared, shocked. Then did something that I had not completely planned on. He laughed. He laughed as if I had just told him that tomorrow he would see his Government Issue dad dress in a tutu and perform Swan Lake.

"Man, you say the d**est things when you're drunk." he wiped a tear from his eye as his chuckles slowed. He actually thought I was joking. I guess the idea is completely idiotic. I would definitely be a joke for considering it. But I didn't really see any other option. I knew, if he was actually aware of the entire situation, he'd agree with me.

"I'm serious." He stopped mid-laugh and looked me dead in the eye.

"You're serious? Do you even realize what you're suggesting? You DO know that we could _**DIE**_ if we even considered attempting that?" His voice simply escalated till it had nowhere else to go. The only answer I could give him was a small nod. He stared for a good bit more before taking another swig.

"Alright. Good to know you're completely off your rocker. So when do you want to leave." I knew Two. That last sentence was not sarcasm. He was sold on the idea. Probably because he knew me. He had played poker with me. He knew how bad my poker face was. This wasn't a joke.

"I'll explain in the car." I swung off my bar stool

"Oi ! If I'm going on a suicide mission, then I'm going to enjoy my beer, Thank You Very Much." He said taking a large gulp from the bottle. I cocked an eyebrow at him. Did he really just say that? Yeah, knowing him, beer was probably the first thing on his mind. Followed by women. Then followed by life or death decisions.

It's good to know your friends.

**Yet again, I'm waiting on reviews. If you don't already know where this is headed, think Bourne. Reviews are a bit like gasoline, they're what keep this gravy train a-flowing.**


	3. sorry

Alright guys, I know I haven't been the best Writer in the world. I am definitely not reliable so I am leaving the fate of my unfinished stories in your hands.

It will take ten votes YES to keep the story going. Any less than that and it goes away…forever. So… that's pretty much it. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while. Just started college so I'm swamped with stuff.


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